And You'll Sing 'Vita Bella'
by shhsecrets
Summary: In the Scavo Pizzeria it's always amore. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine, unfortunately.

**Story Summary: ** Tom confronts Lynette in a weak moment. Set between seasons 3 and 4.

**A/N: **I have a crazed love for Housewives and no skills writing. First fic.

_And You'll Sing 'Vita Bella'_

After 9 years of being married to Tom, and knowing his gift giving all too well, there was no particular reason for Lynette to suspect anything out of the ordinary for her 44th birthday. To be honest, she had barely remembered her birthday herself. Facing newly diagnosed cancer and raising 5 children was enough to occupy her mind, and she didn't need a reminder that her years were dwindling, including the fact her Lymphoma could deplete those years completely_._

She had found refuge from the thought in her office, or really, a tiny niche in the back of Scavo Pizzeria. Lynette really had no reason to be there so early on a Saturday morning other than to bury herself deep in her paperwork. Doing so successfully, she had forgotten the hours that had passed and luckily forgotten the rest of her worries along with it.

"What are you doing here?"

As she appeared out of the back, she met Tom in the front of the store. She looked shocked, and slightly comforted. "I could ask you the same."

"I was looking for you."

"Well, you found me." Lynette laughed, hinting at sarcasm. If she had guess, she figured McCluskey had given her disappearance away, as she was watching the kids. But that didn't bother her. In truth, it was nice to know she wasn't so alone.

Lynette maneuvered behind the bar, grabbing bottled water out of the mini fridge. Tom watched, intently, hung up on his wife's strange disconnect and knowing it had to do with the illness invading her body. He saw the way she froze at breakfast when locks of hair tangled in her fingers while combing her hands through it. This was something she couldn't control, and he knew that was killing her. He wondered if she would be okay anytime soon.

"Honey." He said, voice laced with concern. "It's your birthday. Why are you here?"

"It's just another day." She shrugged. "And I figure the work has to be done, right? Might as well do it while I can."

There was a bitterness that stung his eyes at the simple of idea of a time limit, a time frame on his wife's existence. The thought was sour and hurt, and a strange wave of tears sat in his eyes. He blinked. "That's no excuse. You should be out celebrating with me."

"Last year you brought me home lavender bath beads and a robe. You did the same thing the year before that, but with vanilla."

"Well, this is a big year. It's your birthday, your _44th_ birthday. Let's go out on the town."

"Aren't we a little old for that?"

"I don't think so." He said, deadpan, yet putting everything out there for her to see. Tom wasn't going to allow her to be defeated. He wouldn't. "To be honest, I was planning on celebrating another 40 birthdays with you."

There was a pang of love that squeezed Lynette's heart, but she dismissed it. Tom was too soft for her sometimes. It brought out the weak in her. "We've got bigger things to worry about. Bills need to be paid. Paperwork to fill out. And that grease trap isn't going to unclog itself."

"That's what you're concerned about?"

Like a fawn in headlights, Lynette glazed over, and nodded. "Yes."

"Here we are. Lying to our family. Fighting an illness. Dealing with your mother. And you're honestly telling me you're more worried about paperwork than celebrating your... life?"

Lynette had known Tom was a sentimental person, having cried at their wedding and all of their children's births, but she wasn't so aware of the imprint marked all over him. He was actually hurting. In pain. And she had had no idea.

Having the gaul to point out the obvious, though, was what sent her over the edge, in a tizzy of stress and tears. She cried. "I... I didn't want to spend the day wondering if this would be the last birthday I would celebrate with you and the kids."

Tom watched as his wife melted, face straining to fight tears and to be her all-too-strong self. He swallowed the knot in his throat.

"Don't say that. It's not." Breaking the barrier that separated them physically, he walked over to her, brazen, coming inches from her. "But all the more reason to celebrate. I need to show you how much I love you."

She forced a smile. "Oh, Tom. I see it everyday."

"I need to show you how much I need you to fight this."

A glaring pause fell over her again, silence, and Tom cupped her hand. Sometimes Lynette wished love was enough to cure her problems, because she knew she'd never have a problem if it did.

"I am." Lynette wiped her eyes. She huffed, and attempted to collect herself. Seeing this, Tom ran his fingers down her arm. She let out a genuine smile at the gesture. "Why don't we stay here? After the dinner rush, tonight, I will make up something to eat and we can have a nice meal here. We can get the kids, and celebrate."

"Deal. Only if you let me cook."

She nodded and he peppered her neck with kisses, with warm soft reminders of his love and undying companionship. Together they'd fight their way through anything. He loved her. And she loved him just the same. Being enveloped by his embrace, Lynette realized he was the best gift she had ever gotten. Nothing material or superficial could ever change that. Even if that meant another forty birthdays receiving bath beads.


End file.
